Smoke Stack Heroes
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "He was completely starkers. Bare from chest to toes save for one of his best Italian silk ties which was inexplicably fastened to his left ankle." - Lester/Danny/Becker
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** Still rather new to this fandom, so on that note, sorry for any errors or inconsistencies. Hopefully I didn't bork up anything too major. *crosses fingers*

**Authors Note #2: **No concrete setting, but for the sake of clarification I am putting this sometime in season three, before the end of season three. Warnings: Slash, threesome, sex pollen, adult language, tiny mentions of blood and force. This is just a little plot bunny that wouldn't go away. *****Special thanks to _Fififolle_ for her lovely beta work! All mistakes are my own.

**Smoke Stack Heroes**

He woke up sprawled across a ranging plateau of warm skin and chilly hardwood flooring. Finding himself hopelessly tangled amidst a fleshy puzzle of randomly strewn limbs and shredded fabric. - …_Good lord._

And for a long moment he decided to simply breathe. Trying to tell himself that no, his right cheek _wasn't_ all but kissing the tangy skin of _someone's _left thigh. And that no, the subtle rise and fall of someone's chest snuggled up along the curve of his back _wasn't _at all soothing.

His body twitched reflexively as the mound of skin surrounding him shifted, tipping gracelessly as his face remained firmly buried in the crux of his forearm. Hissing delicately as someone's fingers dug into the meat of his thigh, their grip relaxing a few moments later as the sound of a soft snore floated up from somewhere underneath him.

But he didn't even look up. Blindly taking stock of himself and his situation as his mind struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Gradually pulling himself out of the strange, blasted fog that seemed to be dampening his every thought and reflex. He ran a hand across his face, palm tingling at the heady rasp of stubble strewn skin. Willing himself back to awareness.

_..Christ._

His lids flickered, groaning as he propped himself up on his forearms. Hand hanging low between his shoulders as his muscles screamed. He hissed through his teeth, sucking in a discomforted breath as he shifted in place; all too aware of the pulling burn and unexplainable exhaustion that had taken up residence in his muscles. _Everything hurt._ - Hell, muscles he didn't even know he'd had in the first place burned and ached.

_Bloody fuck. - He felt like he'd gotten broadsided by a lorry._

The skin around his knuckles pulled taunt as he clenched them into sudden fists. Forcing himself to focus as an arrow of pain lanced up his neck. He willed the abused muscles to relax as he tried to assess the damage, rolling it carefully from side to side until he was convinced that no serious trauma had taken place. – _Just sore then.._

But as if to negate this his neck throbbed. Pulsing and tingling from the base of his throat all the way up to his jugular until inexplicably sticky fingers reached up to investigate. He felt it gingerly, fingers running down the length of the sensitive skin as his fingers probed two particularly painful spots, the skin swollen and raised to the touch.

But it wasn't until his hands came back flaked and smeared with partially dried blood that he suddenly became concerned. Forcing his aching eyes open just in time to take in the dusty, crimson shower of rust red flakes that fluttered through the air in his wake. Dislodged by his curious hands and left to free fall into open space as his head shot up in alarm. - Had he been bitten by some creature? Attacked?

_Bloody hell._ – What in god's name had happened?

Determined to get to the bottom of it he let fingers spider blindly across the hardwood. Head aching fiercely as he was forced to rely on touch alone, still too woozy to keep his eyes from ghosting closed as he continued his explorations _– Christ his head hurt.._

His hand startled backwards as the tips met with unfamiliar skin, all rough hewn arches and hard muscle. _Curious.._ But after a long moment he decided to prioritize. Forcing himself to simply catalog the sensations as they came rather than face what his every sense was all but screaming as he attempted to gather himself. - _Stiff upper lip and all that._

He cast his other hand outwards, feeling along the edge of what felt like the upset end of the media stand as his hands soaked up the blessed chill of the warped metal legs. - An unnatural heat clinging to his skin as he fought in vain to shake off the siren call of sleep that was still trying to wrap around his brain like a blanket. Promising things, _sensual_ things; memories and images melded together with shadow if he would only just _relax_…

But his cautious explorations were abruptly cut short when his fingers curled around the edges of a thick, buckle and fabric type contraption. _What on earth?_ - He slit his eyes, trying to avoid the glare as he attempted to work out what the blasted thing actually was and why in god's name it was currently sullying up his floor.

Recognition dawned a few embarrassingly long seconds later, as he blinked repeatedly. Attempting to bring the object into focus as he canted his head to the side. It was a thigh holster, a bloody _thigh holster_. He let the blasted thing hang off the curl of his index finger thoughtlessly, half undeniably intrigued and half disdainful. Not entirely sure if he should be either relieved or worried about the noted absence of the firearm itself.

He let his head fall back into the cradle of his arms, grunting with effort as he tossed the dodgy thing off to the side. Eyes tightly shut against the overhead glare as he breathed languidly. The air felt thick, close. Clingy and smouldering as it hushed down his parched throat. – He swallowed hard. Something felt off, almost as if he'd been-…

His tongue darted out to wet his cracked lips. Coming back tinged with the remnants of dried sweat and a certain flavor he found he couldn't quite place. It was something earthy; rangy with musk and tart against his tongue. He heaved a sigh. Knowing it would continue to irritate him for the rest of the day if he couldn't place it. _He swore it tasted familiar…_

He sighed, moving to massage his aching temples only to stop in mid motion. Finding the effort to do even _that _appeared to be beyond him. – _Bollocks._ If he didn't know any better he'd swear that he had the world's worst hangover.

Stretching tentatively he wriggled in place, body tingling with sudden awareness as a wayward gust of recycled air filtered across the arching plane of his naked back. Making the downy hairs on the back of his neck rise as he ran a tired hand through his hair, trying his best to comb it over to one side as he- Hold on…_Naked?_

He chanced a look behind him and promptly regretted it. His worst fears realized as his eyes followed the lithe jut of his right hip, lancing down the subtle curve of his buttocks all the way down to lean thighs and sparsely haired calves. - He arched an indignant brow as he took it all in, words failing him as he completed his inspection not once, but _twice_.

He was completely _starkers_. Arse naked from chest to toes save for one of his best Italian silk ties which was inexplicably fastened to his left ankle. The trailing ends knotted and stretched, mussing up the expensive silken threads beyond all hope of repair. – He sighed rather impotently at that. Pinching the bridge of his nose even as he nudged an elbow, one that notably did _not _belong to him mind you, out from underneath his chest he struggled to find a more comfortable position. Deciding that for the time being, he _really _didn't want to know.

And while he was pretty sure he should probably be getting more concerned about this whole _naked-and-not-alone-in-his-own-flat_ debacle. He found that for the moment he simply didn't have the energy to care. – Besides, by all accounts he figured he was taking the whole thing rather well. Either that or he was still too spaced to care. Given the shirty circumstances it was rather hard to tell.

But before he could do much more then that; the ranging plateau of flesh that was curled around, underneath, and hell, even _on top_ of him shifted. And a low, almost indiscernible groan rushed in to fill the silence.

"Oh good.." he muttered. Mouth feeling like the god damned Sahara as he tried to summon up enough spit to adequately loosen his tongue. "I was beginning to think that it was only _me_ that felt that way. Misery loves company and all that," he snapped lightly, barely managing to mute a yelp of surprise when he was suddenly sent lurching sideways as the mound of flesh surrounding him abruptly shifted.

There was a long, rather pregnant pause as his words echoed out in the surrounding room. Sticking to the sudden silence as not _one_ but _two_ sets of bleary, yet undeniably _satisfied_ pairs of eyes pulled themselves out from underneath the same sweat slicked tangle of wayward limbs to stare back at him.

He blinked. - _Well… At least no one could ever accuse him of doing anything halfway._

**A/N:** The second and final part will be on its way shortly, this story got a lot longer then I'd anticipated! Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!

_"Sex-appeal is the keynote of our whole civilization." - _Henri Bergson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Primeval or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1: **No concrete setting, but for the sake of clarification I am putting this before the end of season three. Warnings: Slash, threesome, sex pollen, adult language and adult situations. *****Special thanks to _Fifiolle_ for her lovely beta work once again! All mistakes are my own.

**Smoke Stack Heroes **

**– Chapter 2**

He let the moment stretch as he stared into the eyes of none other then Danny Quinn and Captain Hilary Becker. Blinking back at twinkling cobalt blue and fathomless dark brown as his mind fought to make sense of the whole affair. He should have known. _Bloody idiots!_ What had they done now?

With something just shy of panic he cleared his throat. Face carefully composed in his usual, haughty expression as he scoured his brain for some clue as to what had happened. Because call him old fashioned, but he figured that if he _was _going to commit career suicide by sleeping with the hired help he'd prefer to remember it in the morning; dodgy bits and all. It would give him something to reminisce on when the Home Office shipped him off to god knows where just to keep a lid on the scandal.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, serenely ignoring the fact that he still seemed to be half draped over Becker's back, and his face within nipping distance of Quinn's right flank. Their legs tangling together amidst the chaos as he forced his brain to think back beyond the blackout.

All he remembered was the last few hours before leaving the office. What had he been doing again? _Ah, yes._ He'd had lunch with the Minister and then a budget meeting at Marsham Street at three. His brain whirled. No, that wasn't it. There was something else.

_Ahah!_ – He very nearly snapped his fingers as he suddenly remembered. He'd signed the order to burn those troublesome plant samples. Deciding not to take any more chances with the damnable stuff after one of the supposedly dormant microscopic spores had unexpectedly flowered only half a week previous. Something which the scientists had assured him was quite impossible right up until the moment where he'd needed brain bleach to get the CCTV footage of four randy, half feral botanists' dog-piling and thoroughly ravishing two hapless soldiers out of his head.

It had been close to twelve hours before the air had been fully vented and the overly amorous floral particles had worn off. And upon it's conclusion they'd found all six of them still slumming it together. Naked, sated, and tangled together in a half conscious mess in one of the locker rooms. According to the resulting reports the medics had practically needed gun oil and an entire stick of butter just to get them unstuck from each other.

All in all it was enough to make one shudder at the mere memory. After all, there were some things in this world that you just couldn't _unsee_.

Not long after the official results had come in Connor had been quick to proclaim it "sex pollen". And as juvenile and distasteful as it was, no one had mustered up the courage to change it. The whole thing was already far too much like some bad science fiction film for his tastes. Why they wanted to sully it up any further was simply beyond him.

...Though even he had to admit that the official Latin name _was_ rather hard to pronounce…

In the days after its discovery Connor had been entirely impossible, toting all manner of absolute twaddle as he whirled around the lab like some sort of human tornado. Going on about what he deemed as the science fiction nerd's 'ultimate fantasy' as he read through all the data they'd managed to collect on pre-Cambrian plant life. Though he had to admit he'd only really been half listening. Too busy exchanging raised brows with Abby from across the room as Temple hit his stride. - How she put up with the younger man he couldn't even _begin _to fathom.

He'd only approved its destruction after being repeatedly and quite earnestly assured by Connor that there would be no way that it could affect them as it went through the incinerator. They were all still rather gun shy since the last time heat and prehistoric fungus had been used in the same sentence. He still had nightmares from the paper work he'd had to fill out in the wake of the whole debacle.

So with half the ARC's assurances well in hand he'd signed the order. Finishing up the last of the paper work before he'd called it a night. Leaving the rest of the team to see to the incineration of the troublesome spores as he drove home, already looking forward to a nice peaceful-_…Oh damn_.

He closed his eyes as a burst of memory flickered across his mind's eye, stuttering and unsteady like one of those rickety old film reels from the thirties. A blink and you miss it kind of affair, where the images played out across the span of his closed lids. He was held captive by it, watching through his own eyes as he all but tumbled out of the bedroom. Sleep flushed and still not quite awake and he stumbled forward, the doorbell still ringing. Fingers fumbling with the ties of his dressing gown as he fairly sprinted towards the door.

He'd barely spared a second to think about it when he'd spotted Becker and Quinn in the peep hole. Looking disheveled and suitably rumpled as they pressed against the door. Not even noticing that they looked almost_ flushed_ when set against the tasteful, beige and cream trim of the adjoining hall. His mind too busy running through all manner of hellish possibilities that would merit bringing the two of them to his flat at this hour as he threw open the door without question. And then… _Bollocks._

He ran a hand down his face as awareness trickled in, mind held captive by all manner of memories as he slowly processed through what had happened. - _Oh that was just bloody wonderful…_ He'd been _jumped_ by his head of security and team leader. In his own home, to boot!

He sighed loudly._ Yet another choice moment of his career that certainly wasn't going to make it into his published memoirs.. _– Shame. It would have certainly given those closed-minded arseholes in the Cabinet something new to gossip over.

But as fast as his self righteous smugness had appeared, it quickly drained away. Replaced by shock and growing arousal as a heated flushed crept up his neck. Because he remembered being crowded up against the wall, the door barely swinging closed behind them as both men slammed him into the hall table. Sending framed pictures and knickknacks skimming off the walls as his back met cool plaster, showing him no quarter as they rubbed against him. Hemming him in from all sides and cornering him in a formation where his lean form was no match for their overly amorous attentions.

Some deep, baser part of his brain had taken over then, leading him to struggle against them as twin mouths nipped and sucked down his skin. Licking down the line of his chin as he'd tried to break free, but couldn't. Not against both of them. The moment had been phantasmagorical in nature, taut with tension and barely checked fear; yet threaded through with something else, something _deeper_. Something akin to desire, sensuality, and want; a need he hadn't realised he'd been bereft of until that very moment.

And like a line of dominoes in mid fall, his sudden, instinctual aggression found a far more _interesting_ outlet. Giving as good as he got, if not _better _as he responded in kind. His arousal rising to new heights as his pulse thudded deafeningly in his ears. Blinding him to all else as tendrils of heat curled up his spine. A rolling wave of white hot pleasure that expanded outwards as rough lips and demanding tongues breached the barrier of his lips. Muting his alarmed exclamations as a whirlwind of hands pressed and tugged at his skin.

Faster then he could process they'd torn into his dressing gown, shredding it to bits with mirror feral grins as blunt nails bit into his skin. Running down every new inch of skin they uncovered until emboldened fingers were suddenly curling around his traitorous cock, teasing down the length of him as the remnants of his housecoat were striped away. Replaced by not one, but _two _different hands as they stroked his cock, tugging at his balls and wandering up to pinch his nipples as his head slammed back against the wall. Heat simmering in his belly as he hissed through his teeth. Losing himself in the haze of more, more, _more_ as their grip on him firmed, assaulting him from all sides as his nerve endings _sung._

He remembered the feeling of twin noses nuzzling into either side of his neck, sucking and nipping as hands dug into his hair, not once stopping their movements on his cock as they rubbed against him. The air growing thick and heated as he gasped, curses trickling past his lips and drowning in the closeness as the moment dragged. Sucked down by impertinent tongues and demanding limbs.

It was too much and nowhere near enough all at the same time. Pleasure mounting underneath his skin like a god damned heart attack as one of the hands slicked the head of his cock with his own precum. Easing the glide until he was making a series of embarrassingly desperate sounding keens in the back of his throat, pushing himself towards a precipice he could barely bring himself to understand as the others thrust demandingly against him. Puffing hotly against his neck as rough edged growls and base sounds issued from their wrecked throats.

_Oh god, he was going to.__.._ Then, without warning, he was suddenly crying out in a ridiculous mixture of pain and pleasure as their teeth sunk into his neck, breaking the skin in a way that had him howling and thrusting up against them all at the same time. And then.._nothing_.

_Bloody h__ell…_

He was rousted from his thoughts when Becker shifted awkwardly. Sorting himself out from underneath the mess as he put his head on a swivel, looking up at the both of them. Danny simply yawned, stretching luxuriously, apparently completely at ease with the whole affair as he worked the kinks out of his neck. And as the moments lingered neither of them made any effort to move or pull themselves out of the fray as they wriggled into a more comfortable position on the living room floor.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he finally proposed, feeling a rush of _something_ crawl up the length of his bare spine as both Quinn and Becker continued to stare. Eyes running up and down the length of him in barely disguised curiosity and appreciation.

Becker coughed, averting his eyes and flushing when he realised he'd been caught. He ran a hand across his tired eyes, inadvertently calling attention to a long line of rather impressive looking hickeys sucked down the length of his left side, the marks ranging from hip bone to neck before winding out of sight somewhere around his earlobe. Something that almost immediately made him wonder which of them had done it in the first place, leading him rifle through his muddled brain only to come back distressingly empty as Quinn gave him a knowing smirk. Clearly appreciating the handy work as Becker squirmed under their scrutiny.

"We were back at the ARC," the younger man began. "We'd sent Connor and Abby home and were overseeing the last of the sex poll-…I mean _plant samples_ going through the incinerator," he finished, trailing off in mild alarm as Quinn flipped over onto his back as if he'd suddenly taken a cattle prod to the arse.

"Oi, I remember now! There was a titch of it that got stuck in the outtake value. And that science bird, Angelica? Or was it Andrea? Whatever the hell her name was said that it wouldn't be a problem. That the pollen was burned to a right crisp, but it just needed to be prodded back into the conveyor belt and everything would be just fi-..._Oh crap_," Quinn muttered, cutting off rather abruptly as realisation dawned.

"I couldn't have said it any better myself, Mr. Quinn," he shot back, the retort almost seamless in its delivery despite the fact that the presentation seemed to be lacking in his usual haughty superiority. Something which he promptly decided to blame on his rather distressing lack of clothing then anything else.

_After all, there were only so many epiphanies a man could handle on any given day._

In fact now that he thought about it, what _did_ the ARC project have against his wardrobe anyway? First it had been that damnable flying lizard, then his run in with the super predator, and god only knows how many other times since. He swore he'd lost more suits in his line of work then was strictly decent for any self respecting civil servant. It was getting to be enough to make his tailor suspicious at any rate._ …Nosey little rodent that he was._

But while he was stuck in his self made reverie, the others had started to take stock of themselves. With Becker snatching up the thigh holster he'd discovered earlier. The only piece of untorn clothing in the vicinity and the only sign of _any _of Becker's clothing at all. The younger man's eyes going wide as he held it up against him, holding it to his breast like some sort of cocked-up shield; the sight reminiscent of an unsullied virgin daintily protecting her virtue.

He only snorted. Letting his eyes run down the length of them both. Virgins they were _not_. Not in any capacity; at least not anymore at any rate. After all you didn't get a tender arse and pleasure-swollen lips from playing football or enjoying a soiree with a particularly nice bottle of Righetti Amarone. Though, who knows? Perhaps that was just a failure of imagination on his part. At this point he doubted he was in any shape to accurately tell.

_C__hrist. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a good and proper lay._

"Should I even bother asking why, out of over eight million people in London proper, you two sexual deviants decided to accost my person?" he questioned with a sigh, finally giving voice to a thought that had been eating away at him ever since he'd woken up and realised what had happened.

Because really, this whole thing had to say _something, what_ that something was he couldn't even hazard a guess. But either way, the small niggling feeling in the back of his brain seemed to think it was rather important. And say what you like about the political profession, but he hadn't got this far in his career by ignoring those instincts.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Becker muttered, still looking remarkably shell shocked about the whole affair as the younger man finally met his gaze. His reticence slightly suspect given the fact that his reply was pointedly lacking in his usual 'sir' as he trailed off.

Danny however had no such qualms. "Not like you were complaining much about it at the time," the ginger man remarked airily, scratching at a matted bit of chest hair with apparent ease. Fixing him with smug smile and a pointed brow, as if daring him to prove him wrong.

And bugger the man for it, because technically he was right. In fact he couldn't remember a time he'd felt more.._sated_, more deliciously wrung out. His mind all but humming in contentment, as a warm, ridiculously satisfied feeling washed over him. The only way he could even attempt to describe it was that it felt remarkably as though a lifelong itch had finally been scratched.

He let his eyes linger over the two of them, casting an appreciative gaze down the length of Danny's long limbs and broad chest. The man's skin was littered with hand print bruises and teeth marks, all intersecting with thick clusters of tawny freckles and deep, half moon furrows. Almost as if someone had raked their nails across his skin in the height of passion. And then across to take in Becker's sleek, tightly muscled physique. To sum it up the younger man was a ridiculously attractive mess of love-swollen lips and dark, sparsely haired limbs.

All in all he supposed he should be glad they obviously had such superior tastes in partners; plant spores or no. After all, it had to be said that he _was_ quite the catch. Enough to apparently merit traversing half of London to accost at any rate, he thought smugly.

And as if to prove that very point, he certainly hadn't missed the way Becker's eyes still looked slightly glazed. Something he wasn't sure whether to be slightly worried or downright smug about. Especially considering the fact that his prick still seemed to be wedged somewhere in between the younger man's bruised, but undeniably _sculpted_ cheeks. _..Oh well, so much for plausible deniability on that front._

"Oi, watch where you're sticking those toes mate!" Quinn abruptly yelped, startling all three of them as he shoved the soldier's polar digits away from somewhere around his navel. But Becker only groaned, wriggling around in an apparent attempt to right himself, before losing the will power halfway through, sending him sinking back down into the mess of overly familiar limbs and slightly bruised egos with an exhausted sigh.

"Did we really just... I mean are you_ sure _that we..." Becker began, trailing off and still looking rather out of sorts about the entire affair as Danny unsuccessfully smothered a laugh into his palm.

"Judging from the evidence I would say there is little doubt that we did. _Repeatedly_," he retorted, barely able to hold back a wince as his prick gave a brave, if not rather exhausted throb. Sore, limp, and tender as it rested between his bruised, hickey-covered thighs. - Somewhat impressed with his own stamina as his cock twitched. Doing its best to rise to the occasion as he took in the two men wrapped around him.

Danny just grinned, his reddish auburn hair suitably mussed, and sticking up in the odd tuft as he smacked the younger man on the leg. "Chin up, solider boy. It's obvious we all enjoyed ourselves," the taller man teased, grin only growing larger when Becker glared, but didn't disagree.

He just rolled his eyes, suppressing a smirk of his own as he watched the two of them bicker. – _Cheeky buggers, both of them._

He listened to them banter back and forth for a few minutes, smug smile firmly in place as the two traded theories about what had brought them here and the events that had happened after. With both of them doing a remarkably intuitive job of skirting around the point of the issue entirely as he took the moment to stretch. Mouth painfully dry as he swallowed reflectively.

_Christ, he needed a drink._

So after a long moment of hedging he finally sorted himself out from underneath the pile and rose. Barely holding back a grunt as the presence of far too many sore muscles and aching bones made themselves known. _Bloody fuck!_ All three of them were going to be sitting funny for _days_.

But as much as he tried to shake it off his legs were still damningly unsteady as he balanced himself against the counter. Using it as a lever, he_ stumbled_ more then walked towards the kitchenette, fumbling with the cupboards for an age long moment before he grabbed a glass and filled it right from the tap; almost choking with relief as he downed two more in quick succession. Closing his eyes with something close to bliss as the soothing liquid coated his parched throat. – _Lord, that was heavenly._

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he took another fortifying gulp, eyes automatically flicking towards the digital clock on top of the oven as he drained the lot. He made a startled noise in the back of his throat as he did some quick mental arithmetic. _Thirteen hours? They'd been at it for thirteen bloody hours? _– Christ... It was a wonder any of them could even _move _let alone _walk!_

Crossing to the study he limped over to where he'd stowed his briefcase. Feeling the muscles in his thighs pull taut as he fished out his work mobile; breathing a small sigh of relief when the display flashed empty. – _Thank Christ for that. _Because the absence of half a score of panicked voice mails and dropped calls, and the fact that his flat _hadn't _been stormed by the rest of the team meant that the particles hadn't affected anyone else and no one had noticed Quinn and Becker's less then subtle exit as they'd stalked him from halfway across the bloody city.

_They might just get out of this with their dignities intact after all. _– Smashing.

"Everything alright in there, guv?" Quinn's voice sounded out. Floating through the open door with his usual flippant sarcasm and easy humor, liberally laced with that of well earned exhaustion as the echoes flirted through the gently recycled air. And in spite of himself he couldn't help but grin at that. It seemed as though they'd all given each other a run for their money in the intervening hours.

And with that thought in mind he breezed out of the room and back into the kitchen. Embracing the sore throb as he forced his aching muscles into submission, sparing the two still sprawled on the ground beside the settee a smug little nod as he pointed himself towards the kitchen sink. Not even thinking twice about it as he rummaged through the cupboards and filled two more to the brim. Pointedly ignoring the fact that he was still as naked as the day of his birth and all but swinging in the breeze as he brought the two men a glassful.

"Gentlemen, I think it goes without saying that I don't want to see any paper work on this," he quipped, passing each of them a generous glass as the snarky tilt in his voice lost steam near the end. Body still thrumming with that strange, pleasant burn that was completely unique to the aftermath of a particularly good seeing to as Danny and Becker hummed in wordless agreement.

And as weird as it was, he felt remarkably at ease in that moment. It was strange, indecent even. And yet he made no move to change it. Letting the silence air out without strain as the two men sipped at their water, making positively _obscene _noises of appreciation that went straight to his cock as the sounds echoed out into the quiet. – The little arseholes were doing that on purpose. He just knew it.

He should have felt exposed, he should have been tripping over himself to cover up and usher the others to do the same. Except he didn't, instead he felt.._invigorated_; supremely comfortable in his own skin despite all odds. And it was a feeling that only seemed to grow the longer the moment stretched and the others made no move to pull away. In fact, if anything they adjusted themselves around his new position. Their sleep-warmed skin and overly familiar limbs welcoming him back into the fray, as if the whole situation was simply par for the course.

_..__And for some strange reason, that thought, as daft as it was, warmed him to the core._

When he next looked up he found both their eyes fastened on him once again. Only this time their gazes were fixed on the unseemly slash that still stood out across the crown of his chest, standing out just below the dip of his throat like some sort of devilish beacon. Angry, red, and still raised to the touch as he swallowed hard. Heart tripping in his chest as he suddenly remembered the way Becker's hands had ghosted across it mere hours before; pinning him down across the length of the kitchen table as Quinn had swallowed him whole.

Making him forget, if only for a moment, the memories that came part and parcel with that awkward-looking slash. …Because instead of dwelling over it, the two men had turned the scar tissue _electric_. Fingertips coursing down the tender new skin like sparklers on New Years. Making him squirm and buck into Danny's talented mouth as Becker had mouthed along the length of the scar. Seemingly determined to replace those ill memories with ones of his own design the longer he lingered. Dropping drive-by kisses across his jugular and down his chest until the area was _alive _with sensation.

He suppressed a yawn at the same time Quinn let loose a jaw-cracking one, body buzzing with the siren call of sleep as he eyed the clock from across the room. They had just enough time for a few hours of shut eye before they'd be expected at work. After all, god knows what would happen if all three of them called in sick. His brain already entertaining at least a half a dozen rather horrific possibilities. The foremost of which included Abby and Connor nosing through the CCTV footage and catching a glimpse of Danny and Becker arrowing from the building, glassy-eyed and aroused.

_No. They had to make an appearance, if only for proprieties sake._

Canting his head to the side he shared a look with the others, smirking as Becker's eyes slid down to half mast as he watched. But either way the man had a point. They needed to get at least _some _rest before facing the proverbial gauntlet that was any other Thursday morning at the ARC.

It took far more effort and ingenuity then it should have as he lurched to his feet, threading his way through the mess of splayed limbs and inviting thrums of sound as the two men stirred in sleepy protest. - Doing his best to ignore the chaotic state of his flat as he passed the upended coffee table. Tip toeing past the crumpled papers and books that were strewn across the floor from the living room all the way down the hall like some absurd form of paper rain.

It wasn't until he'd reached his bedroom that he paused. Looking back at the pair still sprawled out against the settee, stalling on the threshold as his bare feet curled into the carpet. Both men looked just about as wrung out as he felt, yet strangely expectant at the same time as they stared right back. …_Christ._

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he came to an abrupt decision. - Hoping to hell that he hadn't read the situation wrong as he eyed them down from across the hall.

"_Well?_ Are you two coming or not?" he demanded, tone as snarky as he could muster as he ran a hand through his hair. "We have five hours before work and don't think I won't drag both you sexual deviants in by the ears if I have to," he finished smugly. Posing a casual hand on the jut of his hip in clear invitation as twin feral grins blossomed across their swollen lips as they wobbled to their feet.

And he'd be damned if they didn't take him up on it. Crowding him through the door and taking him down into the sheets as if they'd simply been waiting all this time for the bloody invitation.

But on the other hand, as he managed to flip Danny onto his back in mid air, mouth coming down on the other man's prick as he rendered the smart-mouthed ex-copper speechless. Becker hemming him in from behind as gun-calloused fingers trailed down the length of his spine. Barely able to steady himself against the sudden sensual assault as Becker wrapped his lips around his own arousal. - It wasn't until he'd licked his way down the redhead's shaft, tongue curling around the head as Quinn cursed out a blue streak. Grunting around the man's length as Danny's blunt fingers dug into his hair and Becker tongued a strip down his cleft that he suddenly realised he knew _exactly _what that damnable flavour had been after all…

_Devious little sods._

A/N: Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!

"_Sex is a discovery."__ - __Fannie Hurst_


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